item and a look of satisfaction adding a laconic touch to his
smile, “It says right here sub-replacement fertility rates will
account for negative population growth in Western Europe
and Japan. Human growth exceeds the carrying capacity of
our planet.”
Sam Ridkin snapped impatiently, “What about the
under-populated areas out there? Surely you aren’t taking
them into consideration in these statistics of yours!” He
waved an angry hand at Danzig’s file and slammed a fist on
the table. The Interpol Chief wasn’t one to lose composure.
Blake felt Dal’s eyes seek him out as Bell blushed, surprised
by Sam’s outburst.
“Please, Mr. Ridkin,” Danzig pleaded, “those areas
are sparsely inhabited because their population is so meager
they are unable to manage or sustain any kind of operative
economic system.”
Sam scowled at Blake as he caught the gaze on his
man’s face. Danzig placed the files back in their folder and
spoke directly into Sam’s eyes. “Gentlemen, the United
Nations predicts the world population will exceed nine
billion people in the year 2075. The over-population process
is accelerating at an unsustainable rate. Discounting natural
disasters we will outgrow this planet in very short time.
There will be insufficient food and too few resources if the
population explosion is left unabated. We have established
conclusively that mankind’s numbers must be forced into
decline in order to maintain parity with productivity.
There have been more people added to our planet
in the past fifty years than since the dawn of creation.
We cannot allow this growth rate to continue. We must
implement the Lucifer sanction and cull the population.”
Sam strode across the briefing room and into a small
kitchen area slightly larger than a closet. The room was had
no window and the light source came from an overhead
fluorescent tube that provided a cold glow. There was a
small laminated circular table with one chair, a microwave,
a toaster oven, a small refrigerator, a first aid cabinet and
a few cupboards that held a minimum assortment of cups
and plates. He pulled a bottle of aspirin, uncapped it, shook
four pills into his palm and poured a shot of Jim Beam.
Blake poked his head into the room and asked,
“You okay, Chief?”
There was no reply, Sam was hurting badly and
needed to take a break. Blake and Sam’s relationship was
as close as father and son; consequently Sam’s stress level
concerned Blake. He reached for a glass, took a bottle of
Perrier from the fridge, half-filled the glass and slid it across
to Sam who predictably just moved it to one side.
“I’m no genius,” Blake said, “but my gut feeling is
that we’re about to get dropped into one shit-load of trouble.
I’ve got my own thoughts about what’s ethical and what
isn’t. All this – the ethics – well, it just doesn’t pass through
my digestive system, if you know what I’m saying.”
Despite the lunacy of the situation, the diminutive
kitchen offered temporary sanctuary for them both.
Blake was tempted to say, “So what gives?” but
instead he spread his hands and said, “Do we really have to
go through with this?”
Sam shrugged, waved him off, sat down slowly and
took a long pull on the Jim Beam.
“Those guys at the Triumvirate,” Sam moaned,
“Those fuckers don’t assign us without serious consideration. Yeah – we’ve gotta to go through with whatever.”
*****
American Interpol Division
Wilshire Boulevard
Los Angeles
March 22, 2015
12.55 P: M
Marcie Bryant buzzed through. “Mr. Danzig’s
associate has arrived.”
“Another fuckin’ nut case,” Dal whispered to
Patrice Bellinger.
Sam groaned, rested his head in his hands and
mumbled, “Goddammit, show him in.”
A smiling man with a mass of unruly gray hair
entered the room. Danzig grinned widely and said, “Hans
my friend, I trust your journey went well?”
“Pardon my tardiness, there was a delay in
Similar Books
